For I Have Sinned
by Sorrow Reminisce
Summary: When Terminal City is infiltrated, who will the real enemy be? One of their own, or a pure, unsullied foe? And will Alec find comfort in the arms of a betrayer?


**A/N:** If per chance you're reading this BHG, I'd just like to say that I did start out thinking this would be the story that I promised I'd write for you months ago. Now here's the but... at this point it seems I've embarked upon yet another WIP, and as with the rest of my fics, they have a habit of writing themselves while I'm not looking. Therefore, I have no idea if I can keep up to the challenge of injuring Alec, without actually _killing_ him. Hmm. So maybe I'll save your fic for a standalone with a conclusive ending. (If someone knows how to end a story, can you tell me? I seem to have a phobia of such things.)

For those who have asked when I'll be writing an Alec fic again, well... he's definitely in this tale. However it probably won't be M/A. But don't worry, it's not M/W either. And no, I'm not about to set sail upon the M/L ship. In fact I really don't give a damn about Max or who she's paired with!

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For I Have Sinned

By Sorrow Reminisce

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**Prologue**

I never envisioned that I'd be the one telling this story. I always expected that I would have been amid the first to die. Not the last. Or rather, the second to last. I was never meant to survive that which has now come to pass. But I guess that I was a lot better at my job than I gave myself credit for. The people I had been instructed to betray, had trusted me too much. So much so that I nearly stopped myself from carrying out my mission. But to go against orders... well, surely they would understand that I could never do that. Surely. 

So now here I am, sharing my soul with you - a total stranger. And we are strangers. However much you may think you know me, I'm only letting you see a small fragment of myself. If all of these fragments were put together to form a Whole... the puzzle that is _me _would look very different from what you think you're seeing now. Wouldn't it?

Telling you _that_, really isn't helping matters is it? Hey, I'm being honest. I'm alarmingly close to pouring out my heart to you, and I know that by the time I've gotten to the end of my tale, you're going to ask me why I would even presume to _have _a heart. 

It's okay, really. It's a question I ask myself every day. 

Yes. I do have a heart and gods know that if I were to rip it out of my chest right now, it would crumble from the light of the sun. 

Here. 

Take it. 

Take my heart and do what you will with it. Because every second that it beats within me, I feel the eternal ache of utter despair.

Take my conscience - I don't need it's burden any longer. My mind is stabbed over and over by the tortured cries of my friends every time I awaken from nightmares, trembling and drenched with a cold, cold sweat from which I can never truly wash myself clean. Perhaps you'd like to relieve me of my memories too? I pay a guilt-ridden tribute to the lives I have taken, each time my tortured reflection stares back at me from my mirror. 

The face of a betrayer. 

My face. 

My soul, my pain - all of these you can have. With every breath of air that I force into my lungs, I wish desperately it could be my last. And soon it will. I'll make sure of that by my own hand. So I will tell you my story now, while there's time, and in my last dying breath I might find at last, absolution.

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Preparation

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The job I had been assigned wasn't simple. For many months I trained vigorously for my mission. Although, I wasn't so much trained, but rather _assimilated_ . My mind was reprogrammed to forget _all _except that which I was taught in the gruelling months before insertion. 

During this process, I truly learnt the meaning of pain. Every limit I thought my body and mind was unable to cross, my instructors had me shatter and reset. And shatter again. It seemed that in each and every week that passed, I was completely broken and rebuilt from scratch. 

My memory of this time is hazy. They took my very essence out of me and forced me to forget so much. So successful were they, I would have believed that I was nothing more than a figment of someone else's imagination and that my world did not really exist, had they told me this was true.

By the time they had finished with my preparation, I no longer had any idea of who I had once been. I only knew who I was now.

I was a transgenic. 

My designation was 547. 

My name was Arcane. 

Whether these details were true, or implanted data, was irrelevant. It was not my goal to survive the mission, only to fulfil it. However, you may have figured out already that not only did I complete the objective, but I survived to tell the tale. And unfortunately, I regained knowledge of my real identity along the way. This what makes what I did so much worse. 

Once I began to realise there was so much of my life I was unsure of, I hated my handlers for what they did to me. But in hindsight, I realise that by suppressing my past, I had been granted a mercy. 

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**Insertion**

The guards threw me roughly into the small concrete room where half a dozen other transgenics mulled about on the steel benches or on the floor. I fell face first, unable to gain control of my footing before hitting the ground with a smack. So much for intuitive agility.

For a minute I simply lay where I had been thrown, not wanting to get up and face those in the room with me. No mercy had been spared for me during the beating I had received before being shoved in here. My body was covered in bruises and lacerations. And so I'd rather hide with my face buried towards the ground, then to see any kind of sympathy in the eyes of my fellow captives.

The sound of a boot scuffing the ground beside me caused me to flinch with the effort to not look up, though it probably seemed as if I were flinching out of fear. A hand touched my shoulder, the warmth of the palm melting into my skin, such a contract to the rough hands that had held me down while I was beaten.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Understanding. The voice held understanding. Not sympathy, as I had feared. 

Understanding was even worse. Sympathy was given by one who could only try to emphasise with the pain, yet not themselves know how it felt to suffer. Understanding was given by one who had been there before and felt it all themselves. Every blow, every snarling voice uttering _transgenic scum _over and over in your ear by a person with fetid breath and fingers that would dig cruelly into your skin, while those surrounding you slammed their steel capped boots into your body 

Rather than find words to answer the owner of the question with, I shrugged away his hand and pulled myself to my knees. There was no pain in my movements, only a dull, heavy ache of tired muscles and bones rebuilt. Realising he still crouched there, waiting for an answer, I nodded. 

"I'm fine."

Those two words were enough - to at least let him know that I wanted to look after myself. As I slowly extending my body until I finally stood straight, I looked at last to the person who had risen from the ground with me and now stood facing me. His face held a bemused smile as if he recognised my wilful independence on a more personal level. An apprehensive chill ran through me. Did he know me? Was this stubbornness a part of me before my reprogramming? Were the cracks beginning to show in me already?

"So how'd you end up here?"

My thoughts still wrapped up in my paranoia, his words merely slipped past me, lost before I had time to digest them and form an answer. Finally aware of intense hazel eyes waiting for me to respond, drawing me towards the face that owned them, I blinked away the uncertainty. I had been trained well, of this I tried to reassure myself. My instructors would never have let me out if they had felt I wasn't ready for the mission.

"No sector pass."

He nodded, "yeah that's tends to be what gets us in hot water. That, and the thermal imaging devices the NSA have been handing out to every street cop around."

It was my job to win the trust of these people, not treat them with hostility. I allowed my shoulders to relax and my tone to lighten. "They're really putting the squeeze on us aren't they?" 

"Yup. But don't worry, we won't be here long." His words were cryptic, I sensed from his easy grin and the calm expressions of those around us, that he wasn't speaking of transferral by the NSA men who would soon be coming to collect transgenic prisoners from police holding cells.

"You don't seem too concerned about that." It wasn't a question, therefore I was given no conclusive answer. 

Instead the dark haired transgenic before me offered a knowing wink, "you'll see."

Silence panned out before us as I considered his words. This man had a game running and judging by his easy-going confidence, he knew exactly what he was doing. No doubt he was at least partly responsible for the NSA and sector cops inability to hold transgenics for long, before they were broken out and ushered into Terminal City; their one place of refuge.

Feigning uncertainty, I stood in the centre of the silence and evaluated those before me, intensely aware of the half dozen pair of eyes examining me in return. No doubt they wondered if I was a fellow transgenic, or an NSA infiltrator. For an irrational moment I wanted to break the stillness and ask, "hey, what if I was _both_?" Instead I swept aside the urge and wondered quietly to myself if my handlers were wrong; if I _was _in fact defective.

"My name's Alec by the way." The presumed leader of this small group stretched out a hand towards me. Swallowing my self-doubt I reached out my own and exchanged a hand shake that seemed so out of place. It was after all, a human custom. 

"Arcane. Designation 547." A smile slipped onto my lips, unbidden. It surprised me that for so long I had trained to have total control of my every thought and movement, and yet when dropped at last into the enemies metaphorical lap, I stood as if naked before them. Entirely helpless as even my _facial _muscles would not allow me any control.

"Arcane huh?" Alec stole the smile from my lips and placed it upon his own. "So uh, do you know Max?"

Yes I had been told of Max. 452. She was the one who had taken up the responsibility of the transgenics' welfare. 

I had been told also of Alec, designation 494. He was 452's little side kick, forever slipping out from the grasp of his hunters. Now as he stood before me - a prisoner, I realised his being here was no mistake. He had probably allowed himself to be captured and brought into the police holding cells so that he could free those of his kind trapped within.

"The name is familiar." I smiled to myself. Indeed it was. "She's Terminal City's leader isn't she?"

Alec looked to the ground suddenly, hiding the laughter that threatened to press out through his mouth. Pausing for a few moments until he had regained composure, he looked to me at last, amusement still written across his face. 

"Well, we let her think that. It stops her from whinging." Hazel eyes twinkled. "And trust me, the last thing you wanna put up with is Max nagging in your ear all day."

Confused by this information, I held back on answering. What could I say? Although Alec's words seemed filled with disrespect, his tone held reverence - as if he adored the very thing he criticised. 

Seeing my doubt, he broke out of the playful reminiscing and adapted some semblance of solemnity once more. "She's responsible for holding all of us together - but on the flip-side, it's our responsibility to hold _her _together."

Once again his words were enigmatic. As much as he tried to reassure me, I felt so out of loop. And a part of me desperately wanted to share in the private joke. Whatever it was.

"Don't worry, you'll soon get the hang of life within Terminal City."

Again with the knowing smile. Why did he speak as if expecting me to understand the innuendos? Why did he seem to know me so well? I attributed it to my features. My handlers had told I had a face people would relate to. Therefore they would trust me easily, even if they weren't aware of this on a conscious level.

"There's a spare seat if you like." Indicating towards an empty bench, Alec raised a questioning eyebrow. Thankful to escape the centre of the room, I nodded in appreciation and crossed the cell, sinking down onto the cold surface of the seat and finding solace in at last blending with the rest of the rooms inhabitants.

Alec remained standing, now patting his pockets as he almost absent-mindedly checked for something the cops had already taken for themselves. I watched him, thinking of how easy it was for me to think of him as Alec rather than 494. My handlers had spoken of 494 with disdain, even as they instructed me to get closer to him than anyone else within Terminal City. Despite my earlier concerns, I was beginning to feel this would be much simpler than any of us had allowed ourselves to believe. 

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Time dragged by slowly. Uneasy restlessness spread throughout each of us like a collective conscience. I could guess what each person was thinking, and vaguely wondered it myself. What was Alec's plan and when would it finally kick in? Had something gone wrong? 

Unlike the others, I was not so concerned. My being here was no more a case of carelessness than Alec's. We both had our own agenda, and although he was completely oblivious to mine, our current goal was the same; to get into Terminal City. The difference was that while he could only cross his fingers and hope that his friends would succeed in busting us out, I knew with certainty that our escape would go unhampered. After all, the very NSA men who were coming to collect us, were also under instructions to allow our circumvention. My handlers had seen to that.

My corner of the cell contained the concentrated stench of stale urine and as I tried to strategise my next steps, the strong ammonia scent invaded my nostrils, throwing off my ability to focus. In times such as these, having heightened senses were more of a curse than a gift. Closing my eyes, I shook my head at my own pathetic self. Hadn't I endured far worse than bad smells, while undergoing assimilation?

Finally footsteps sounded in the hallway, drawing closer before coming to stop outside our door. A key jingled, the bolt slid back in its lock and the door at last swung open. Coldness swept through the room, or perhaps that was simply my imagination running riot on me. An idle thought came to mind 'who should I ask for permission, if I wish to own an imagination?'. 

Sweeping the thought back beneath the figurative rug, I turned my attention towards the man who strode into the centre of the room as the door closed behind him. He exuded an air of dominance, despite his short stature. His presence here puzzled me. Surely he couldn't be a transgenic? 

I was surprised when the newcomer's eyes immediately fell upon Alec, and lit with an eerie glee. Taking a moment to look him over as one would examine a side of beef, the man's lips turned up into a cruel smile. "Well, well. Has hell frozen over so soon?" 

"What are you doing here White?" Alec snorted at him. "Get arrested for impersonating a human again?" 

The man Alec had called 'White' took his time to answer, instead allowing his gaze to wander over each of us; cold and penetrating. It seemed he searched for some one in particular. Some one who wasn't here - that was obvious by the look of disappointment on his face in conclusion to his inspection.

"Oh well you see, I found myself in a bar brawl." He spoke in a patronising tone, making it clear his story was a fabrication. "The cops arrested me - must've thought I was a freak like you lot."

Alec tilted his head to one side, as if seriously considering this, "Yeah... I guess I can see how someone would figure you to be a 'nomolie"

Offering Alec a sardonic smile, White deflected with a shrug, what I gathered to have been an insult. "Ah well, I'll be out of here soon enough. Once the boys arrive and realise who I am."

"What, you mean you're multiple ID badges weren't enough for the sector cops? Or weren't you playing secret agent guy today?" Alec then looked White over with a critical eye. "And where the hell is your suit?"

Glancing down at his black fatigues and grey army issue shirt, White shrugged. "I left them with my multiple ID badges, moron." 

Alec stepped up to the shorter man, his face set in an expression of predatory stone. "What. Are. You. Doing. Here?

"You think I don't know your little buddy '_Max' _is gonna break you outta here?" White grinned, watching Alec's expression falter. "I figured I'd catch a ride to Terminal City."

From my corner seat, I watched this scene play out before me, not understanding what was going on, but knowing that somehow the presence of this man had thrown a spanner in the works. But my surprise was nothing compared to Alec's, whose expression had turned to comic disbelief. 

"You've gotta be kidding right? This is a joke?" Running a hand through his hair as if a scalp massage would make it easier to believe, Alec turned away for a moment and pressed his fingers into his temples. "I mean, what makes you think that Max would allow _you _inside Terminal City?"

"I have a proposition for her. And I'm sure she'll find my information crucial to the _Transgenic Cause_." 

Alec's eyes narrowed, "why would you wish to tell us anything that could help us?"

"Oh you know, for now it'll help you. It'll buy you a bit more time. Ultimately - you're all dead anyway so what do I care if you're life is prolonged a little? And the deal will be one I'm sure you can already foresee."

"You shouldn't have bothered burning the brain cells over your little plan - it aint gonna happen." Alec crossed the room and leant against the wall, his expression closing off the conversation with a scowl.

I could see the presence of the man who smirked darkly in the centre of the room, caused him concern. From my corner of the cell, I took all of this in, wondering if any of it would effect me.

The rattling of keys once more startled all of us. So deep were we in our individual thoughts. Alec pushed away from the wall and glanced to the group, passing to us as a collective, a silent nod. Except of course White, who he merely regarded with a look of disgust. 

Ignoring him, White's glacial stare turned upon me, taking in my appearance for a fleeting moment before interest was lost. I felt a chill pass through me. Was he working on my side? Had my handlers felt they couldn't trust me, and sent in someone else? But no, that would be silly. Alec obviously knew who he was. I was being paranoid. I looked to the others, hoping they hadn't read my worries on my face, but everyone's attention was fixed on the door that now swung open once more. 

As two suit-clad men entered the room, White gave them an almost jovial grin. One of the men started in alarm at the sight of the menacing figure wearing the ridiculously out of place smile.

"Sir!" The Hispanic-looking man stepped forward but White held up a hand in protest and halted him with a shake of the head.

"Come on you lot!" The voice came from the corridor and belonged to an sector cop who looked far too over-worked to be still conscious right now. "Get out!"

We filed silently out of the room like the soldiers we were. The sight of our disciplined march through the station seemed to frighten the cops on duty. Of course, White who walked before me, held more of a swagger to his stride and tarnished the image of the perfect military unit.

As we were loaded into the vehicle that was to transport us gods-only-know-where, the Hispanic man approached White once more. "Sir will you be riding back to HQ with me?"

Shaking his head, White replied impatiently, "no dimwit. I'll be catching a ride back to _transgenic _headquarters with the Moscow Circus here." 

An enlightened look passed across the NSA agent's face, but as he opened his mouth to speak, White rolled his eyes, adding, "and no Otto - that wasn't sarcasm."

Swallowing indignation, Otto nodded and stepped back, allowing White to enter the back of the truck along with us. Alec merely glared, seemingly realising the futility in argument. 

I didn't know White, Alec, or any of these people, but I could see they treated each other with contempt as if each believed one was better than the other. I could see also that Alec and White hated each other with an intensity you could almost _see_. They were like two wild animals sharing the same territory and waiting for the other to make one wrong move and open themselves to attack.

As the truck's engine roared into life and the vehicle pulled away from the rear exit of the police station, I blinked away my thoughts, finding so many of them crowding my head at once, I couldn't think straight. I needed to empty my mind and allow it to refill again slowly, so that I could digest each piece of information individually. But my thoughts refused to stop churning around inside me. 

Instead I wondered if this man White, was really hoping to swing a ride to Terminal City, or if he was setting us up for a much deeper trap. Before his arrival, my mission was so clear cut. Now it was paramount that I contact base and find out if my orders had in any way changed. If I didn't know what the hell White was up to, how could I carry out my own job?

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A/N again *sigh*: Now if you've gotten this far, perhaps you'd like to click the review button and let me know what you think? Seriously, I'm going to write this story whether people like it or not and I have a fairly clear idea of what I'm doing with it (though as I said before, who dies in this tale is another matter altogether), but feedback is always encouraging!! Everyone knows that fics featuring an unknown character can be hard to pull off and I'd really appreciate hearing what people think so far. So... Questions? Comments? Suggestions? Review? Please???


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